Mr Charles Snippy's Guide to Surviving the Wasteland
by GelibeanH20
Summary: If you're stuck in a post-apocalyptic situation and want A) an entertaining read and B) tips and tricks on how to survive this unique situation, this is the guide for you! The ENGLISH language is copyrighted by the G-Directorate. You will be charged 100.2 credits per word, no refunds :tu du du:
1. Introduction

_Mr. Charles (Sniper) Snippy's Guide to Surviving the Wasteland_

Hello. Welcome to my (Charles Snippy's) guide to surviving the wasteland. I could go into all of the little details of how to collect food, fend for yourself and the exact art of setting up camp, but I feel that the other information booklets are far more informative about that sort of thing. Survival skills will definitely help in this situation, but the few tips I've prepared are geared mainly towards an apocalyptic setting, whatever the case may be. In my unlucky lifetime, I've been unfortunate enough to witness the nuclear fallout, something that mankind has been predicting since the nineteen fifties or earlier.

Here are a few tips which I try to keep in mind in my day-to-day activities:

1: Always bring extra supplies (particularly bullets).

2: Try to get enough sleep, when you can.

3: Know how to dress your own wounds.

4: Be on your toes.

5: Don't make assumptions; even a seemingly innocent rock can be a hidden danger.

6: Don't be picky about what you eat, but don't be reckless, either.

7: Get used to the lack of modern comforts.

8: Stay in shape.

9: Try to remember to relax.

10: Extend a hand of friendship to whoever is willing to accept it.

Now that we've gotten them listed, I'll go into each one in more detail. I know some of them may seem intuitive or a little silly, but it's good to have them down pat and I'll clarify the matter further. But first, I'd like to provide you with a quick note of my situation, in case it isn't entirely clear.

I am one of the last human beings alive on this planet. Earth has been mostly overrun with hideous mutations which are the fault of nuclear warfare. There is hardly any non-toxic food or water, and on top of that we have encountered a few… foreign… challenges. We—my team, that is—have also met a few other lone groups, but most of them seem to be hostile.

Who is my team?

Well, I'm the squad sniper. I snipe things. Enough said, I suppose. But since there are so few of us, I'm also the food-gatherer, the guy-who-makes-sure-no-one-dies, and the unwilling clown.

One of the squad members whom I've known the longest is Pilot. He's an aviator, naturally. I'm not sure of his real name, and neither is he. Pilot suffers from acute brain damage, including amnesia, what appears to be some sort of developmental delay which makes him behave rather like a five year old, violent outbursts (towards me) and unhealthy obsession over one particular person, whom I'll get to in just a minute.

The newest member to our team is Engie. Well, that's not his name. It's short for engineer, which is what he was before the fallout. His real name is Alexander Gromov, and he is the man who essentially destroyed the world. Naturally, having built ANNET and other robotic advancements, he's pretty smart. Well, his inventions kind of killed humanity, so he's not that great. But I digress.

The final member is Zee Captain. I hate to say this, but I do owe him my life. Boy, does he know it. He is an egotistical, narcissistic maniac who must suffer from some degree of sociopathic disorder because he seems to not care _at all_ if any of his "minions" live or die. He is infuriating, not at all helped by the fact that Pilot hero-worships him and obeys his slightest command, and he believes that he can conquer the world _with tea._

That's our entire crew. We are few in number, and we certainly aren't among the best or brightest. But due to some sort of sick, twisted form of luck, we all managed to survive what is indisputably the greatest catastrophe in the history of mankind.

At this point, I'm just trying not to die.


	2. 1: Always Bring Extra Supplies

_1: Always bring extra supplies (particularly bullets)._

I know this may seem like a little bit of a no-brainer, but I've seen a few fresher corpses around the wasteland with a gun but no bullets. I guess they figure that it's safe because of [insert reason here] or they just need to go out quickly and get [insert thing here], but I can tell you that _if you are not properly prepared, do not consider leaving the base!_ Bad idea. Really. Don't do it. Ration your supplies so such a thing will never happen, and if it _does_ you always go out _as a team _so you can protect and defend each other if necessary.

It's a stupid way to die, all in all, especially after surviving the fallout.

To prove my point, I'll tell you about the one time that I neglected to bring a few extra rounds. I'm lucky to still be alive… Well, of course you knew _that._ Hah.

It was another grey day, to the best of my recollection. They all seem grey, now. I'm not sure how long ago it was, but it was quite a while ago, closer to the beginning of the fallout. I think this may even be back before Gromov joined our squad. In any case, I noticed that we were running low on supplies. Pilot and Captain had stuffed the cupboards of our latest base with stupid things like toy orangutans and red sneakers. There was no food, hardly any water, and no more bullets for my rifle.

I sighed. The other two were nowhere to be found. They were probably out trying to make another flying machine to tape me to, knowing my luck. I slung my gun over my shoulder and trudged out into the snow.

It was a cold day. Cold_er_, I mean. I guess it could have been winter, but it was hard to tell. I ventured along the outer edge of the city, methodically trekking towards the centre. I thought I heard Pilot and Captain yelling and screaming and laughing, so I decidedly headed in the opposite direction as them.

As soon as I decided this, I heard a strange clicking noise behind me. I slung my gun off my shoulder, holding it at the ready. By this point, I had forgotten about my lack of bullets. This was a stupid, amateurish move.

The clicking noise happened to come from two pincers on the hand-like appendages of the Hunter-Wraith who was close behind me. Its tattered black cloak floated ominously over the ground with a phantom-like air. I took aim. I pulled the trigger. As expected, nothing happened.

I swore bitterly and took off like one of my missing bullets across the landscape. I couldn't hear footsteps behind me—just as well, Hunter-Wraiths are silent when they move—but I could hear the click-click-clicking of its pincers close behind me. I could almost feel the horrid, rotten breath of the thing on the back of my neck.

I ducked down an alleyway, I swerved left and right and up and down, but the thing wasn't to be deterred. My lungs were screaming for air that I could not give them. I could feel my vision going hazy through my blue goggles. _This is it,_ I thought morosely as my legs started to give way with every step. _This is the end._

"PILOT! SEIZE THAT BUCKET-FACE! HE HAS STOLEN THE CLOAK OF DUMBLEDORE!"

"SIR, YES SIR!"

I had never before been half so glad to hear those loud, annoying voices. Just as I sank to the ground, the world tipping away from me sickeningly, I saw Pilot launch himself at the Hunter-Wraith, his katana shining in the half-light of the cloudy day. I didn't really see what happened next, but when I could finally stop panting for a moment and get to my feet, I saw that the horrendous monster had disintegrated into a pile of cloth with black ooze seeping out, quite a lot of which splattered over Pilot's dark uniform.

I felt gross, but I hauled myself into a vertical position, leaning on my rifle for support. "Nice job, Pi."

He didn't acknowledge me. He turned to Captain and said, "I have retrieved the cloak, your eminence!"

"Excellent job, mein Pilot! The Potterheads will handsomely reward you!" The Captain clapped his gloved hands together, one leg poised in the air behind him in a very feminine gesture. I have to wonder about that guy, sometimes…

I trudged slowly behind the two of them as they danced and skipped around the landscape. I knew I had to be grateful to them. But I didn't have to like it or anything.


End file.
